Authors: Maggie McGinnis

Once Upon a Cowboy (28 page)

BOOK: Once Upon a Cowboy

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Bottom line: The regulars were happy to have a place to sit and chat after a long workday. This was the watering hole, the gathering place, and he and Declan and Trace had promised themselves back in Afghanistan that they’d see this cracked black leather booth again, eat Stephen’s comfortably questionable cooking, and enjoy their friendships.

The woman next to him kept him from feeling his normal Zen. Now that she and the Hell’s Belles had been in Hell town for over a year now, the Outlaws knew a bit more about Mayor Judy’s team. Ava was steadfast and determined, and had married Trace after a sort of scattershot courtship. Trace hadn’t been happy at all about Ava’s learning to bullfight with the Hell’s Belles on Judy’s team, and his
resistance had been more than token—though he’d happily caved at the end on all counts. Then there was Harper, and her young son, Michael, whom she loved more than anything. Harper was the hardest to read of the three teammates, and Saint feared Declan was in for a serious bruising of his heart over the gorgeous blonde. There was something about her that spoke of quiet resolve and toughness—and
of absolute zero interest in his buddy. She was an excellent horse rider, one of the best he’d ever seen, even possessing a fine repertoire of trick riding skills. Far too busy with her son and her horse to have even casually glanced Declan’s way, Harper had friend-zoned him right off the bat. Declan had enough shit going on in his life that the last thing he needed was a blonde with a die-hard independent
streak rocking his world, but there you had it. Love stunk on ice.

Of the three women, Cameron had the reputation for being the wild child. She was unafraid, and a daredevil. She was tough, and the occasional brawl in Hell—usually out at Ivy Peters’ Honky-tonk and Dive Bar on the wrong side of town—didn’t seem to concern her at all. He happened to know that Cameron sneaked out to the Honky-tonk
on occasion to hang out, in direct violation of Mayor Judy’s rules. He also knew that before Michael had come to live with his mother, Cameron had been able to drag Harper out there with her. In the past few months, he knew, Cameron had made a couple of stops out at the Honky-tonk—he could always tell when she was going because she’d tell Harper, Harper would tell Declan, and Declan would mention
it to him just to see his blood pressure hop. Cameron wasn’t one to let anybody tell her what to do, and he supposed he could see why a twenty-five-year-old wild woman would be drawn to the dubious fun of the Honky-tonk, when the big excitement in Hell proper was sitting right here in this booth at Redfeather’s every night. But her late night excursions were exactly what kept him on his toes, and
were exactly why Judy was betting on her to be her star bullfighter.

He supposed any woman tough enough to bullfight wasn’t going to be the kind of woman who’d meekly follow Judy’s rather arbitrary set of rules. The only reason she didn’t like her team going out to the Honky-tonk was pretty much because she despised Ivy with a passion, and the sentiment was returned in full. He didn’t like Cameron
going out to the Honky-tonk because he knew how many men would be looking for a good time, a pursuit Ivy cultivated. Even the college kids liked to drive to the Honky-tonk from the big city, more frequently than was probably good for their GPA’s.

He wanted to protect Cameron, but the thought of other men asking her to dance or hitting on her also activated a stubborn streak of jealousy he hadn’t
been aware he’d possessed. And he wasn’t too happy to have located this rich vein of “concern,” as he liked to term the nagging feelings he experienced over Cameron.

He’d get over those renegade emotions with a little time. He had to. They were about to gnaw a hole in his gut.

Of course, Trace and Declan loved to razz him about Cameron. Gave him hell for not asking her out. But since Trace had
never asked Ava out, finally just giving in and following her up to Colorado when he couldn’t take her being gone anymore, Saint figured his friends weren’t the authorities on a woman’s heart they wished they were. And while his fellow SEALs wouldn’t let him walk into an ambush, and had had his back in some pretty dangerous places around the world—and vice versa—they would gleefully encourage him
to jump right into the frying pan of love, on top of a red-hot stove, just to enjoy his misery.

No, he couldn’t count on his buddies in the dilemma he was suffering.

“I need your help,” Cameron said to him, and Saint stared into her beautiful deep-denim-blue eyes, knowing that whatever it was she needed, he was going to move heaven and earth to provide it.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said politely. “How
can I help you?”

“Judy’s arranged for me to start training to be a bullfighter out at Judge Rory Nunez’s.”

He raised a brow. “Good for you.”

Cameron shot him a look of disgust, and he laughed. He raised his beer, drinking deeply, unable to tear his gaze away from her in spite of himself.

“Look, eventually you guys are going to have to respect the fact that you were wrong about Judy’s idea
for a team of female bullfighters in order to put a new face on Hell. Ava won that argument when she proved she could do it.”

“Maybe. The thing is, she gave it up to follow Trace around.”

Cameron snorted. “I think you have that backwards.”

“So Judy’s got her eye set on you.” He shrugged. “Cupcake, if you want to get squashed flat, that’s your business. Don’t ask me to help you.”

“I
am
asking
you to help me. Because I know you trained Ava out at Rory’s when Trace wouldn’t.”

He didn’t even have to think twice about this. “While I would help you any way I can, Cameron, I won’t train you to bullfight. That’s not my thing. I only helped Ava to get under Trace’s skin. We decided long ago, before your team was even a twinkle in Judy’s eye, that we didn’t train anything but riders. And we
don’t train women to bullfight, which Judy knew before she ever dreamed this project up.”

“You’re the best rider around. No one knows better than you how to stay on a bull, stay on a horse.” She gave him an intense stare that hit him right in the gut. He took another swig of beer for protection. “If anyone knows what a cowboy needs from a bullfighter, it’s you, Saint.”

“Maybe. But no. Sorry,
gorgeous. I’m not cut out to be an instructor.”

“You trained Ava.”

He nodded. “I did. She was a great student. But I’m not training you.”

His little redhead had quite the glare on her when she decided to crease those delicious lips into a displeased frown. He laughed because she was so darn cute, then stopped laughing abruptly when she put her lips against his.

He went absolutely still.

She kissed him, and his mouth felt like it had just reached heaven. My God, she was soft. Sweet. When that mouth was used for something other than sassing, it was a miracle surely blessed by angels.

He shut his eyes, hanging on for the ride. Didn’t dare pull her into his arms and make the most of it, because quite clearly she was sending a message, and oh God, he wanted to receive this message
in all its glory.

Somehow he regained consciousness when she pulled away, her big eyes gazing into his. His brain was mush; he couldn’t have pulled two thoughts together if his life depended upon it. There was nothing like an ambush to take away a guy’s upper hand.

He wanted to say something but he was transfixed, frozen into his seat. Cameron smiled at him, not shy at all, and Saint tried not
to look like he was putty in her hands, which he was, damn it.

“Good night,” she said, getting out of the booth.

What the hell had that been about?

He watched her depart Redfeather’s, his gaze glued to her beautiful fanny, the fanny he’d spent hours staring at as it bounced in a saddle. His mouth dried out, his ears rang.

She was trying to get under his skin.

It was working.

—

“What the
hell was that?” Declan asked, making his way into the booth not a full minute after Cameron had departed it.

“What was what?” Saint was still trying to figure out what had just happened. His brain couldn’t stop wondering how a man who refused to give a woman what she wanted suddenly got the daylights smooched out of him.

It had been awesome.

Maybe saying no was the key to a woman’s heart.

“Cameron kissed you. I saw her as I came in.” Declan gazed closely at him. “You look shell-shocked, buddy.”

He was torn all to hell. “It was just a friendly peck.”

“It was not a friendly peck. Pecks last no more than two seconds, and usually only one. That little lady stayed on your face for a good five seconds, not that I was counting.” Declan laughed. “It’s just that when you’ve been a bullrider,
your brain automatically counts. Definitely five seconds, brother. Three seconds more than friendly.”

“She wants me to train her out at Rory’s.”

“Oh.” Declan ordered a beer from Stephen, and the dinner of the night. You could order whatever you wanted from Stephen, but you’d get served what he wanted to give you. That was another one of Stephen’s quirks. Though the food could be good on a rare
occasion, most times it could be barely digestible. But no one complained—everyone was just here for the companionship, anyway. “That redhead’s a firecracker, isn’t she?”

“Something like that.”

Saint could tell Declan was trying not to laugh, didn’t want to rub it in too hard, though he obviously found the situation pretty funny.

“You know you’re going to give in eventually.”

“Don’t think
so.” Saint lifted his beer to his mouth, barely tasted it going down. All he could taste were soft, sweet, raspberry-colored lips.

“Oh, you will. It just depends upon how hard you plan to fight it.”

“Pretty damn hard. All of us agreed, when Judy first came to us with her dumb idea for a team of Hell’s Belles, that we, the Outlaws, do not train women.”

“Rules are made to be broken. At least
from Cameron’s perspective.”

He shrugged. “She’ll have to break them elsewhere.”

“This is exactly what got us in trouble last time with the Horsemen,” Declan said, referring to their rivals across town. “Judy’s team can train at Wild Jack’s with the Horsemen, probably for just about nothing.”

“The girls will never go out there again. Even Jake the Snake stays away from Cameron now. We’re the
only game in town, if Judy’s team is serious about training.”

“They’re serious. But if we won’t, they’ll find a way to make it happen.”

He heard the worry in Declan’s voice. “Look, just because Ava managed to make her way into the arena as a bullfighter doesn’t mean that’s going to become our business model. Judy needs to find something else to do with her team. That’s her problem, not ours.”

“I like it.” Declan nodded, considering Saint’s words. “You’re right. Judy’s issue can’t become ours.”

“Exactly.” Saint felt better, relaxed against the booth. They were a team, and this time they were sticking to the plan, the one they should have stuck to originally—which was no training women at the Hell’s Outlaws Training Center.

No matter how sweet the kisses.